


You Fall Into This

by FeoplePeel



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fic Exchange, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4406981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeoplePeel/pseuds/FeoplePeel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tides come in, the world rotates, and Varric is still by her side.</p><p>The passage of time is their greatest motivator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Fall Into This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sidleupandsmile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidleupandsmile/gifts).



> For the prompt: Something exploring the growing relationship between Varric and Hawke. Either DA2 or DA:I, I don't really want them to have been together for a while, but still working things out, maybe just admitting feelings for each other. If you'd like the angst route, post!All That Remains. If you like humor, post!Cassandra trying to destroy Varric. Purple!Hawke has mad cheering up skills. 
> 
> This was a lot of fun! I took liberties with the time between DA2 and DA:I so, depending on whether you left Hawke in Kirkwall or she had to leave immediately, either way I hope it reads well and I hope you like your gift!
> 
> Thanks to my ever patient beta, kazzashepard, for all of your help <3

The first person Hawke encountered upon returning to Skyhold was not Varric. A fact that, in itself, was disappointing. Heightening her dissatisfaction was a curly-haired soldier-boy (who was by _far_ the most appalling bluff at Diamondback she’d met since Anders) standing inside the gates to greet her instead.

“Knight-Captain Cullen! How good to see you.” It wasn’t _that_ good, but Jessalyn was a decent liar and liked to think of herself as rather personable, in any situation.

“Not a templar.” Cullen’s reply lacked heat. As she grew closer, she noticed him subtly move behind a table littered with papers. “Is your business in Weisshaupt finished already?”

“The road was blocked,” she leaned against the table, smirking openly. “What’s wrong? Not still afraid of me, are you?”

“I may no longer be a templar, but I have a long memory.” He seemed to relax when he realised she was keeping a safe distance.

She rolled her eyes, but backed up a little, regardless. “Where’s Varric? He’s usually got a sixth sense when I’m about,” she trailed off in a mutter.

At _this_ , Cullen _did_ allow himself to relax, even grin a little. “ _You’re_ no longer an official advisor to the Inquisition, Champion. I’ll need permission to let you know the details of any happenings within our operation.”

“Well aren’t we fancy?” She waved him off, smile teasing. “Go then. Fetch your master.” Van barked beside her and she laughed, petting him to quiet stillness.

* * *

Hawke banged against the door of the Gallows with such fervor, she felt a crack along the side of her hand. The new recruits had attempted to stop her but, after a few bruised heads and likely more bruised egos, they seemed to be giving her a wide berth.

She was _very_ drunk.

“Champion. You can’t be here.” She recognized the distressed voice as Meredith’s second-in-command, Cullen. Another Ferelden who always seemed to have a nose in her business. “Family visits aren't allowed.”

She moved without thought, foot connecting to shin, and a satisfying yelp greeted her ears. The damned fool had come without his leg armor. _He won’t be making that mistake again._ She thought, near hysterical and rapidly losing balance.

Sliding down the door, an arm caught her and helped her the rest of the way down and into a sitting position. The wood and stone didn't make for the most comfortable chair but at least she could see straight now.

“ _Hawke_.” That voice she knew. Varric stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder and leaning down to whisper, “Aveline couldn't be seen getting involved. Luckily, I’m a master negotiator.”

Varric was there to calm her down no doubt. She wanted, so badly, for this to fuel her anger, but all the fight seemed to leave her at his teasing lilt. She leaned forward on her legs, head between her knees, and breathed deep.

“I must look a sorry state.” She chuckled miserably, holding her elbows in a loose hug.

“It’s not so bad.” Varric pushed her shoulder until she was forced to look at him. “No, see? Still the most beautiful Champion in Kirkwall.”

“Everyone's been trying to talk to me about it. Aveline, Fenris, Merrill, _everyone_ ; they won’t leave me alone.” she spoke into his elbow. “ I just want my sister.”

A brief flash of pain stole over Varric’s face before the expression disappeared beneath stolid determination. “The Amell's are a highly respected family. Hawke is the Champion. Surely an exception can be made.” He leaned in, speaking so only the three of them could hear. “I know others have been.”

Cullen looked between them, obviously torn. “You said it yourself, she’s the Champion. She’s too high profile for something like that.” He straightened, voice more steely. “In any case I don’t think she’s in a state to see anyone else tonight.”

“But you’ll consider it.”

Cullen was quiet for a moment. “I’ll still have to ask Meredith.”

“Go then.” Hawke struggled to stand, only to glare at her own feet. “Fetch your master.”

* * *

It hadn’t taken her long to ascertain Varric’s whereabouts from Cullen (the man did owe her twenty sovereigns). He was with Bianca, of all people, and Hawke had planned a myriad of quips and surprises for them upon their return to Skyhold.

Two days passed. Then three. Then it was a week before Varric returned and she decided it was all too much trouble and just waited patiently with Cassandra who was, despite Varric’s protective protestations during their previous encounter, actually quite fun to be around.

They were taking turns charging at Bull when Varric returned.

“Varric's here.”

The three stopped, Cassandra and Bull directing matching curious looks her way and Hawke dropping blades altogether to meet Varric as he climbed the stairs over the hill.

“Neat trick.” Bull said, behind her.

Cassandra snorted. “It is uncanny.”

Actually Cole had told her. But If they wanted to believe she had magic Varric powers she wasn't going to dissuade them.

“Hawke!” Varric exclaimed, sounding surprised and delighted.

Hawke noticed his expression and laughed. “Did you miss me?”

“I, well,” he started, thoroughly wrong-footed, which was a rare and amusing sight, “yes! Come here.” He pulled her down into an embrace. Some distant part of her thought, _He still smells like the white flowers that grow in Hightown._ Then arms moved to her waist and the thought was shaken from her as she was lifted into a half-turn. Sometimes she forgot he was strong enough to nearly lift her from her feet. Hugs were a nice reminder.

“I was only gone a month!” She beat his hands away with a laugh.

“I know, but I thought I’d be stuck with these tits for who knows how long. All by myself!”

“You love them." She ribbed him.

“They’re all right.” He consented with a shrug. "So what happened? You’re supposed to be in Weisshaupt. Fighting the good fight.”

“I know. I’m quite changeable, it’s dreadful.” She looked around. “I thought Bianca would be with you.”

“You know how it is.” He scratched his neck. “Goodbyes are awkward.”

“Shame," she pouted, examining her blade, "I had a few things she could have fixed up." Varric rolled his eyes in a fondly familiar way. “How was she?"

"Trouble. No surprise there."

"And then you come back for some peace and quiet and here's little old me."

He huffed a laugh, looking happier than she'd seen in some time. "Yeah, here you are. Come on," he thumbed towards the main hall, "you still haven't told me how Blondie took to the Anderfels.”

* * *

"Bianca Davri, nice to meet you." Hawke shook the dwarf's hand feeling a little starstruck. "You're here to pick up the sliding scabbard?”

“Oh, yes, Varric said,”

“Ssh!” Bianca demanded in a hushed tone. “Saying his name’s a bit dangerous around here.”

“Sorry,” Hawke shot her a baleful look, “I don’t think _he_ would be too happy if I accidentally got you into trouble.”

“If he really cared, he wouldn’t have sent the Champion of Kirkwall. Turn around.” When Hawke didn’t obey fast enough, she found herself manhandled backwards, one of the scabbards strapped firmly to her thigh.

This was apparently going to be a silent fitting. She took the opportunity to look around the workshop.

 _Oh well,_ Hawke thought, drawing in a breath to speak. She prided herself on navigating difficult conversations. She was still friends with Fenris, after all.

“Did you make it?”

Bianca flicked something with her thumb and Hawke watched, fascinated, as her blade slid out on its own. “It’s why you’re paying me, I assume.”

“I meant his crossbow.”

Bianca tightened a strap, unnecessarily in Hawke’s opinion. “We don’t talk about that.”

“You mean that you share a name with his weapon of choice. Yes, I’m sure it’s a very dull conversation piece.”

“He wrote an entire _book_ about you.”

“Have you read it? It’s fairly inaccurate.”

“Yes, I noticed he has a habit of spending paragraphs on your impressive manner.” She turned back, removing the scabbard and measuring it against her string.

Hawke blushed. “What can I say? He loves spinning stories, I wouldn’t read too far into it.”

Bianca held her gaze. “I’ll ask you to do the same.”

Hawke stared back steadily. “Fine.”

“I appreciate it,” she tightened the strap and made a measurement, “and the business.” She looked up from her her hood, eyes twinkling. “Mostly the business.”

"I'd say I'm getting the better end of this deal." She slid a hand a along the device at her hip. “Now how do you make this thing work?

* * *

“How does this work?” The longbow wobbled along Hawke’s arm and loosed with an unholy sound. “Oh, balls!”

Dorian stared at the arrow, sticking straight from the ground only a foot before him, then back to Hawke. “Watch it!”

“You'll live, you big baby!” Sera called from behind her, leaning against a wooden post and looking absolutely amused.

“Sorry, Dorian! Its fashioned _improperly_!” Hawke shouted, tone accusing.

“Its fashioned to me!” Sera shot back. Hawke moved to lean beside her, and Sera bumped her with a shoulder. “He’s just mad you threw off his step.”

“Shit...I got a splinter.” Hawke ignored her, picking at her finger absently.

Sera rolled her eyes, grabbing the digit and squinting at it in the dimming light of day. Hawke yanked it back with a childish pout.

“I think I’ll stick with Cassandra. You and Varric and your _special_ bows, I swear.” She mumbled. “Cole!” She addressed the boy watching the ground at a distance. When she had his attention, she motioned to the arrow. “Can you bring me that?”

Sera shuddered. “You let people fill your bows. S'noble shite.”

“Some people like to feel needed.” Hawke shrugged, smiling lightly. “And watch it. Bow or not I can still think of at least seven ways to best you.”

“Ah, you wouldn't.” Sera hopped back onto the fence, effectively brushing her off.

“Oh? Not scared of me?” Hawke plucked the arrow from Cole’s hand, twirling it unsuccessfully. “Have my many skills failed to impress you?”

“I don’t make a big to-do about _the people’s Champion_. Usually some ponced up know-nothing, got lucky once.” Sera snorted. “But Varric tells stories about you. You’re all protector.”

“Protector.” She lifted a shoulder, leaning forward to straighten Cole’s hat. “I suppose I’ve been called worse.”

* * *

“Why weren’t you there?”

“I’m sorry, Bethany, I tried,”

“You’re _useless_!” Bethany cried into her hands and Hawke watched, _uselessly_ , as she calmed in stages.

“I’m _sorry_ , Bethany,” Hawke repeated, louder in the near-suffocating silence.

“I just always thought…”

"I know." Hawke did know because she had planned it in her head, likely as often. Bethany would escape the Circle and she and mother would meet her outside, prepared for their next great adventure.

She thought about it now...Bethany trapped, mother gone, and all the people who needed her, now. Her new family. Could she really leave Kirkwall, tomorrow? If she were honest with herself, could she have left it yesterday?

"What now?" Bethany interrupted her thoughts.

Hawke bent her head, examining her hand. “I think,” she narrowed her eyes at her palm, “I think I have a splinter.”

Bethany wiped at her eyes smiling a little. “Come on, let me have a look then.”

* * *

Hawke followed Cole and Sera back to the Tavern. It wasn’t the Hanged Man, but Varric had made a cozy home for himself here. Hawke wasn’t surprised in the least.

She slid into the seat next to him. “Hey.”

“Hey! Drink?” He flagged down the barman, a surly-looking dwarf, and a brew to rival Kirkwall’s own swill was set in front of her moments later. Hawke spun the glass on the counter, gaze unfocused.

“Hawke?” Varric stilled her hands, tone warning. “Everything all right?”

“What?” She looked at their hands. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Dangerous habit.”

“I just wanted to thank you. For my mom.” She moved to lay her hand on top of his. “And everything after that.”

“Wow,” Varric rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, “what brought that on?”

“I just realised I never did.” She shrugged, pulling her hand away. “So thanks.”

Varric opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Finally he settled on, “You don't have to.”

“I know. That's why I am.” She lifted her glass. “To Varric.”

He quirked a grin, lifting his own glass in mimicry. “To the great Jessalyn Hawke.” They tossed back the dregs of their drinks, slamming the glasses in near-perfect synch. “Not too much,” he warned, wagging a finger, grin widening, “that shit’s expensive for a reason and I don't know if I can carry you up those stairs.”

* * *

“C'mon, I'm not dragging your ass all the way back to Hightown.”

Halfway up the stairs in the Hanged Man, Hawke felt her legs give out. Her knees crashed to the floor. She heard Varric call out for Corff and the two of them carted her to his room with varying degrees of resignation.

She was tossed, unceremoniously, onto a familiar bed. Hawke had spent many drunken nights recovering on Varric’s bed. She could not recall, at this point, ever being _this_ drunk.

She waited for Corff to leave before she spoke, curling around to hold her stomach. “Bethany hates me.”

“Sunshine’s got more to worry about than,” Varric took a great breath, seeming to think better of his words. “She’s confused.”

Hawke threw an arm over her face. “I’m being selfish.”

“I think you have a right to be,” he considered this, wrapping her into one of his blankets, “sometimes.”

* * *

Hawke trailed a hand around Varric’s bed, examining the Inquisition’s furnishings with a low whistle. “They set you up here.”

“Better than the Wardens.”

“Hey you don’t know.” She turned, hands on her hips. “My room could be _amazing_.”

“And if I hadn’t seen the fortress with my own eyes, I may be more inclined to believe you.” The laugh that followed was, indeed, disbelieving. “Admit it, you got used to the lap of luxury.”

“Maybe I just missed you.” She responded after a beat, hoping her smile made it just teasing enough.

“You get lonely too easy.” Varric grinned back. “That’s not a good trait for someone in hiding.”

“I thought you were finished when the hole in the sky closed.”

“I’ve got some business to settle here first.” He explained, leaning against a desk that was shoddy when compared to the rest of the room’s fineries. She stared at him, playing with the drapery around the bed. “Soon. Probably a few errands in Kirkwall after.”

“Kirkwall.” She repeated, a little numbly.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“I guess I just always thought, you know, Champion Hawke and her trusty dwarf, world adventurers.” She finished weakly. “Living the dream.”

“I think I’ve done enough adventuring for the next,” he pretended to think about this, “forever. I want to go _home_.”

“Home.” She fell back on his bed, acquiescing the point and too scared to face it. “Right.”

* * *

“When do we get to go _home_ , Jessalyn?”

“Home _where_ , Bethany?” Hawke laughed bitterly. “The rubble of Kirkwall? You want to go back to the Circle? Or, I’m sorry, did you mean Lothering?”

A cough interrupted them, Hawke turned to glare at Aveline, poking the small fire from a safe distance. Hawke stood, leaving the two women and joining Varric at the mouth of the cave. She crossed her arms, frowning sourly.

“Don’t leave it like that.” Varric told her warningly.

“I know, just give me a few minutes to cool off.” She sighed. “Where are we going?”

“You three should head on to Tantervale when this weather clears.” He pointed out, then thought better of it as the cold air touched his wrist. He shoved his hand between the crook of his elbow quick as a shot. “Once we get a safe distance, I’ll turn back.”

“You’re not coming with us?”

“Kirkwall’s my home, Hawke.” He lifted a brow in an obvious attempt to pacify her. “Besides someone has to stay to cover your ass.”

She grinned in spite of herself. “I don’t know what to say,” she felt herself get a little choked up, “I’ve had to say goodbye to so many people already.”

“Hey, hey,” he tugged her in by the hip, voice rough with some emotion, “you expect me to walk home in _this_ weather?” She chuckled. “I’m not gone yet.”

* * *

“Hawke?” She registered the whisper of a familiar voice. “Everything okay?”

“Hm?”

Out of the flotsam and jetsam of her dreams, the fuzzy haze of Hawke’s hungover brain realised she had fallen asleep on Varric’s bed. It wasn’t hard to open her eyes. But keeping them open, now that was a trick.

“Hawke?”

She drew the voice down, pulling soft lips to rest against her own, and held the body that carried it there as she came back to herself in stages. When her brain finally put itself to rights, she found herself blinking into Varric’s face, mouth pulling away with a soft smack. It took everything in her not to bolt upright.

“Oh, Maker, I’m so,” she remained rigid, staring at Varric, whose expression was strangely passive. “I’m sorry, Varric.”

“No don’t be, don’t...say that.” Varric rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s...probably a lot of wrong things to say right now so,”

He bent to scoop her in his arms, pulling her forward and kissing her hard. Hawke grabbed his hips instinctively, drawing the kiss into something long and languorous. She felt a hand sink into her hair, fingers tangling gently through sleep-mussed locks, and let out a low hum of satisfaction.

It was no more than she had experienced before; tongues and teeth and flesh inside her. But it was _Varric_. At times, it felt as if they had waited too long, other moments it seemed there could be no better time. She took everything in stride, counting freckles where she could, soaking in sounds and cataloging expressions. And when they came together, she pushed him back, clinging with her knees and elbows as he held her hips tight, both determined to memorize the other’s face, neither having the need.

* * *

“Usually I’m sleepier after being thoroughly fucked.”

“Thoroughly?” Varric tried, and failed, to hide how proud he was at the assessment.

Hawke ignored him, sitting up and rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “What I mean is, why do I feel like my skin is vibrating?”

“Ancient Dwarven magic,” Varric pulled her back down with a yawn, “something about the Stone, something, something.”

Hawke snorted, falling silent. She shifted, feeling a dull ache between her thighs. Her cheeks colored unnecessarily at the memory. She used the sheets to pull herself closer, curling around Varric, she felt his hand move to smooth the top of her hair.

“You okay?” He asked. Hawke nodded wordlessly. “We don’t have to,”

“I didn’t want to say goodbye again.” She interrupted, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “Not without,”

“Is that why you came back?”

She bit her lip. That was a good question.

“Honestly?” She raised herself onto an elbow. “I was hoping I could convince you to come with me.”

“That’s a hell of a way to go about it.”

“Did it work?” She grinned, unrepentant.

“The truth?” She nodded, teasing giving way to curiosity. “I was always planning to go. I just wanted to see how you’d try to persuade me.”

“That’s a _mean_ thing to tease me about.” Hawke slapped his chest and he winced with a laugh. “Honestly I’m a bit shocked.”

“So am I!” He grinned widely. “This is way better than I’d hoped for.”

She hit him with a pillow until he caught it between his hands.

“We need to go back to Kirkwall, not eventually, _soon_. We owe it to the city.”

“I....know.”

“But you can ask anyone here. The only place I wanted to be was with you.”

“At Weisshaupt?” She laughed. “I was just kidding about the room, it’s _terrible_.”

“But you were there.” He lay back with a sigh. “Somehow that seemed more important.”

“I know the feeling.” She lay on her side next to him with a smile she could only describe as _embarrassing_.

“Their words sting like nettle. They don’t mean what you think.”

Two sets of eyes turned in the space of a blink. Cole sat on Varric’s desk, eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat and legs swinging absently.

“Andraste’s flaming tits!” Hawke drew the blankets over her chest and Varric let his head fall to his hands. Cole stared between them, unblinking.

“Breakfast is ready.”

“Ah, kid, come on.” Hawke heard Varric groan beside her and she desperately held back her laughter.

Cole looked momentarily confused before his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape of understanding. “Sorry.” Hawke rolled her eyes, watching him simply _disappear_.

“So,” Varric broke the silence with a disoriented laugh, “breakfast?”


End file.
